When You Mention Pink
by Donner Dumott Schunard
Summary: Erm. An entry for speedrent. Mark and Angel discuss Angels, ahem, willingness to take another step at... womanliness. Rated for content.


1This is me just being... me. Yeah. Most of my speedrent entries did not show my weirdness. This one does. Enjoy. Or... don't.

**When You Mention Pink**

**By Donna**

"Okay!" Mark chirped, holding his camera toward his face. "Close up on the ever-so-talented Angel Dumott-Schunard! Wave, Ang!"

Angel waved, flashing a wide smile. "Hi!"

Mark laughed. He loved having one-on-one time with his friends. Angel was just one of the better ones to interview. He interacted with the camera better than, say, Roger.

"Well..." Mark said, "...you mind if I ask you something?"

"Not at all. You're filming me for your documentary. You have every right to ask me whatever you want," Angel said. He drummed his fingers impulsively on his knee. He had drummed for a good five hours prior and he really wanted to get out of his "beggar" clothes, which were a ratty old pair of jeans and his tired red jacket. And he just made a bright, pink dress, too...

"You dress up in women's clothes," Mark said, sounding like he was trying to think of the right words.

"Yeah," Angel said, unflinching. What did his clothing habits have to do with anything?

"...if you could... would you... you know... become a girl?"

"...as in a sex change?" Angel asked. He never really thought much about it, mainly because he couldn't afford one of those. He looked at his feet and licked his lips. "Why do you ask?"

"I don't know," Mark said, "It's something that's always nagged me about you. You wear women's clothes. You don't seem to mind Collins referring to you as a girl. Would you do it?"

"Well..." Angel started, stopping half-way. This was beyond a yes or no question. Morally, sex changes were wrong, yes? If you were meant to be a girl, you were put in a pink blanket. If you were meant to be a boy, you were put in a blue blanket. Then again, you weren't, morally, supposed to be in love with the same sex. And Angel already broke that rule.

He thought about how Collins and him would probably have an easier life if the operation was successful. Anyone they'd see from then, even if they didn't believe it, would see them as a loving, _straight _couple. Which, anatomically, they would be. "...it'd be easier for Collins and me."

"Yeah," Mark said, almost caught off-guard. "But at the same time, Collins is gay for a reason."

Angel groaned. Of course, Mark was going to make this into a huge debate. "True. True. But... he loves me... and he'd accept me for whatever..."

"Of course he would," Mark said, "but would _you _be happy?"

Angel tapped his foot. Would _he _like it was a pretty good question. His voice would change, for sure. It was high enough. How would it sound an octave higher? And could he still sing after it? And, to be blunt, he loved the plumbing of being a man. Although... it wasn't very comfortable with tights on... and breasts. Those would be different. He didn't wear falsies because they seemed to get in the way. Having real ones would be just as annoying... although, they'd probably cooperate more...

"Am I hurting your brain with this question?" Mark asked.

Angel grabbed his head. "Yes! I don't know!"

Mark couldn't help but smile at his friend's frustration. Mark leaned over and gave him a big hug. "Calm down, you could do what most people do during interviews... say no comment."

"I plead the fifth!" Angel yelled.

"...you're not on a witness stand, silly!" Mark teased.

Angel blushed. "Whatever. Same difference."

Mark sighed, pressing stop on his camera. "You probably are bored with your crap-clothes. If you get an answer, let me know."

"Okay," Angel said, getting up. He took a deep breath, grabbed his pickle tub, and walked out of the loft.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

A few days later, Angel ran to the apartment complex the loft was located. She looked around, wearing the pink dress she adored. "Hmm..." she said, lifting a blonde bang from her face. She took off her matching pink platforms and shoved them in her bag, sticking out oddly. She jumped onto the fire escape and crawled up to Mark's floor. She was going to be quick. Plus, it would probably be hilarious to see Roger's face if he was staring out of the window.

Sure enough, Angel could see a figure at the windowsill. She moved carefully, like a cat, just under the windowsill. The counted to three and poked her head up like a Whack-a-Mole contraption. She could hear a scream that erupted from the other side of the window. She winced as she watched Roger fall back, in utter shock. She could hear Mark's voice screaming, "Roger! Roger! Are you okay?"

Mark looked at the window and saw Angel peeking through, trying to hide. He opened the window and screamed, "What was that for, Angel?"

Angel stared at Roger for a moment, who was pretty much in shock, and said, "I have an answer!"

"To what?" Mark asked.

"To that question from earlier this week about..." she cupped her hands and whispered, "_Having a sex change_."

"Oh," Mark said, "Uhm... come in."

Angel jumped in, missing Roger. She swept the dirt off her tights and threw her backpack down on the ground. "...I'd do it."

"You would," Mark said.

"Yeah," Angel said, grinning. "You know me, Mark. I get tired of the same look. It'd be another adventure."

"Yep," Mark said, "And it'd probably also be in conjunction with your mission to make Roger end up in a coma."

Angel looked at the barely-moving songwriter. "Uhm... that, too."

**END**


End file.
